Consanguinity
by Lady Primrose Roxton
Summary: Roxton & Tribune together again – literally & figuratively. M/R & N/V too! Set in my Virtual Season 4 universe, after the events of “Concourse” and “Whence the Petrel”.


Title: Consanguinity   
Author: Lady Primrose Roxton  
Series: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World  
Date: 1/2003  
Part: 1  
Rating: R  
Codes: M/R, R & T  
Category: Action/Adventure, Sci-Fi, Romance  
Spoilers: MtH, BatG, AoN, & The Games specifically, general up to S3 HotS  
Summary: Roxton & Tribune together again – literally & figuratively. Set in the Virtual Season 4 universe, after the events of "Concourse" and "Whence the Petrel". *Shameless plug to read both before this one if you really want the whole story J *  
Disclaimer: I hope you know that Sheriff Challenger is the process server is these parts…  
Feedback: Tell me -- primrose4@attbi.com  
Website: http://home.attbi.com/~ryukyu4/  
Posting: tlwfix.com, ff.net, others please let me know first.  
  
***  
  
A/N: My favorite morally ambiguous character simply had to make a return. The relationship between Roxton and Tribune is just too good to let lie fallow for too long. "The Games" has been a long time past, and we sure could use a visit from Our Lizard!  
  
A/N2: Darn this was supposed to be just a nice short one-off about Tribune and Roxton, not the Plateau version of War and Peace…Anyway, this is getting long, so I'm going to post it in parts, probably 3 or so. So much for my promise to not do a continued story – LOL.  
  
A/N3: Dedicated to the never-ending efforts of Judy & Gar Reeves-Stevens for being there for us and letting us know the "inside story" as soon as they do! Bless you, my children! Had I but one fifth of your talent, I certainly would be talented indeed.  
  
***  
  
Would puzzle a convocation of casuists to resolve their degrees of consanguinity.  
  
Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra (1547-1616)  
  
  
I like a friend the better for having faults that one can talk about.   
  
William Hazlitt (1778–1830)  
  
***  
  
Bother that tiny bit of decency within the creature that always made him respond when Tribune requested his help. That, and a certain degree of fondness that he kept a firm lid on and would categorically deny were he ever asked. Still, it existed, and he was nothing if not an honest man. Tribune had asked for help, and he would always give it, because that's what friends did – help each other. This particular friend might also sell you down the river were it convenient to his plans, but that was another matter entirely.  
  
Marguerite just stood there and looked at him steadily when he had announced that the lizard runner that had just left had brought him a message from Tribune, and he was going to go to the Lizard City on the morrow. He didn't meet her eyes.  
  
"Are you certain that's wise?" Challenger asked finally, interrupting the silence that had befallen the occupants of the Treehouse.  
  
"Wise? No," Roxton shook his head with wry amusement. "But, I'm going all the same." He looked at his friends, "He's asked for my help, and from what he's told me here," he gestured to the parchment in his hand, "he needs a good deal of help."  
  
"And helping Tribune is high on your list of to-do's because?" Malone acerbically asked.  
  
Roxton's face was a study of pained confliction that he desperately tried to suppress. It looked as though he was about to speak, when Marguerite crossed over to where he stood, took has hand in hers, and in a quiet but firm voice said, "Because Tribune is Roxton's friend and has asked him for help." Her manner and position closed the discussion instantly.   
  
Malone and Veronica took Finn by both of her arms and ushered her down the elevator murmuring explanations before she could formulate the questions that were evident on her mobile and curious face. Challenger likewise melted downstairs to his lab, mumbling a bland excuse that he knew was unneeded as both Marguerite and Roxton were paying little attention to anyone but each other. The longer-tenanted residents of the Treehouse knew that when Marguerite got that look, it was well for them to be out of reach of the couple. Explanations could wait for later.  
  
Roxton tucked the parchment in his shirt pocket and caught Marguerite's other hand and brought the pair up between them, tight against his chest, looking intently at his love. He scanned her countenance, looking for storm signs. Certainly, the others had fled as if expecting her to lay into him. But, her face was still, the only expression was in her lambent eyes, and they told him tales that he could listen to for years, but nothing of the immediate matter.  
  
"Well?" he finally said, affection and exasperation equally mixed in his voice. Waiting for the other shoe to drop had never been his forte.   
  
Marguerite looked at the man she had come to love and trust beyond herself. Then, she smiled - a slow, up from under smile that came from her heart and soul. Roxton could only stare back, unable to do anything but to smile back with wonder.  
  
"You have to go and help him because that's who you are," she said simply. Her heart swelled with love and the knowledge of who he was. If she never really knew her whole self, and least she knew that she understood Roxton deeply. That knowledge and the depth of his love for her allowed her to say what she said next. "Your honour demands it, not to mention he really is your friend," her smiled widened as she slid her hands from his grasp and cradled his face.  
  
His smile widened into a genuine grin, crinkling his eyes at their corners. Then, he sobered a bit and said, "I wasn't sure that you'd understand. I'm not sure I understand myself."  
  
"Yes, you do," Marguerite gently chided him, and led him over to the settee on the balcony. "You just hate to have the others think badly of you. They don't, you know," she added tilting her head to look up at him as he settled back, leaning one arm over the rail, gazing out into the jungle.  
  
Roxton meant to insist that he didn't give a fig for what the others thought of him, and he turned to look Marguerite straight in the eye to say just so, when his words, like the fib that they were, caught in his throat. Her countenance brooked no sidestepping of the truth, nor if he thought it through, would his bloody conscience.   
  
"I feel like I'm caught between two forces," he began.  
  
"Unable to know how to satisfy both of them, but needing to," she finished with a knowing look.  
  
Relieved at her understanding, he touched her hand on her lap and slipped its small strength into his work-hardened hand.   
  
"That's something I'm all too familiar with, unfortunately," Marguerite said ruefully, but with humour in her voice. Looking down at their joined hands, she mused that this man spent a lot of time holding hands with her. She decided all over again that she very much liked it. Glancing back up again, she caught her breath at the intense look Roxton was giving her. "You only need to satisfy yourself," her voice taking on a throaty quality.   
  
Tugging her to him, he murmured back, "Oh, but what about you? I think you deserve your own satisfaction." He nuzzled her neck.  
  
With a rich languor, she slid into his arms, cognizant of a point she was trying to make, but simply unable to string words together coherently as they finally, achingly kissed. Words were superfluous as they glided along this familiar yet never mundane avenue; movements slow and steady, limbs trembling with potential.   
  
Roxton's reliable and insistent conscience raised its indomitable head, when all that he was longed to lift Marguerite up and carry her to his room. It spoke that his Marguerite was shy and modest, regardless of how the Heiress Krux, Miss Smith, or Baroness von Helfing had acted. It was mid-afternoon, Challenger was just downstairs, and who knew when the others would return. Reluctantly, he eased back, breathing heavily, body aching and needy, his arms clamped ferociously around Marguerite's shoulders.  
  
Roxton's hands on her shoulders barely made an impression on Marguerite as she came up for air from a kiss that had spun her about on what she had always considered a very stable internal axis. Well, stable until the day she met him.  
  
Touching his forehead to hers, he forced his hands to ease but still maintained his grip, "Marguerite, I…"  
  
"There you are," Challenger boomed with gusto from the top of the stairs. He hurriedly crossed to pluck his hat, knapsack, and rifle from their pegs and almost bounded to the elevator. "I'm off to check on those specimens of Biosteres longicaudata to help with pest control in the garden. Don't expect any of us back before dinner," he clapped his hat on his head, studiously looking anywhere but the couple, hit the elevator control, barely suppressing the smile that danced upon his lips until the cart had passed beyond their viewing.  
  
Both Roxton and Marguerite looked at the space where the elevator had been, then turned to each other, alike bemused. Then, in the span of a couple of seconds, Roxton's deep timbered mirth melded with Marguerite's insuppressible giggles that exploded into true laughter at Challenger's none too subtle message. Their laughter gradually died as they felt the gravity of their attraction pull inexorably at each other.   
  
Challenger's tacit approval of them added satisfaction and gratitude, but changed not one whit their intent toward each other. It had, however, paved the way for immediate gratification of needs that all too often went wanting. Having a family was wonderful and awful at the same time, Marguerite thought in passing. Mostly wonderful was her last thought of anything but Roxton as he pulled her to him and proceeded to kiss her thoroughly.   
  
So, this is happiness, thought Roxton as he led Marguerite into his room, pausing often to kiss her and tug off yet another item of their clothing. It came upon you slowly, each day a bit more, until it reached its fullest, and achingly sprang upon your mind and heart. Both their hands were slow but unerringly accurate as they sought to reduce themselves to their barest essence.   
  
Years of continuous battling for survival on the Plateau had hardened and strengthened both of their bodies, and there were scars to be seen in the bright light that was only slightly filtered by the curtain that hung in the window. It was a first for them, to be in the light. Marguerite gazed at her lover, her love, and wondered at him. She did not behold perfection, but its veriest proximateness. And she desired him, more than anything else she had ever desired, even her name. The fact that she had him was all the more delightful, and her face took on a mischievous expression that Lord Roxton was all too familiar with, and had a healthy respect for.  
  
Not waiting for her impish inclination to take charge, Roxton lifted Marguerite and tossed her on his bed from a slight height, just enough to cause a slight thump when she landed and have her legs and arms fly up in an attempt to balance herself. He quickly covered her sputters with his body and clamped his mouth over hers, muttering, "No more waiting, no more teasing, and no more bloody interruptions." The kiss was hard and unyielding, passionate as a man who is desperate can be, while at the same time reassuring and dedicated.   
  
The second he broke contact with her mouth, Marguerite ground out, "Been comparing notes with the Trogs on how to impress a female again, have you?"  
  
"Damn right," he said, suddenly furious at her for no reason other than she always had to have the last word, always maneuvering, always dancing.  
  
Marguerite then smiled, her face suddenly enchanting and sweet. She tugged him back down to her and said, "You don't have to win me anymore." Her voice dropped to just above a whisper, "I'm yours."  
  
Immediately, Roxton felt a sense of exhilaration and pure male pride coupled with fabulous desire. She hadn't been teasing, just a ghost of the Miss Krux that was, and she had said she was his. Primitive possessiveness reared its head, and he let just a glimmer of it slide into his eyes and expression. At one exquisitely raised eyebrow, he recognized her acknowledgement, but not any retreat on her part.   
  
"Well met, Miss Krux," Roxton bowed his head slightly.   
  
"Well met, Lord Roxton," Marguerite regally returned the gesture.  
  
A moment of silence, pure and whole, ran between them as they looked at each other. Cleared of any subterfuge or proprieties that cluttered their everyday lives, their love wound its ribbon deftly about their souls yet tighter than before.   
  
It was at that moment he stroked into her. A low keening sound came from Marguerite as Roxton entered her. She was unaware of anything but him as his body rushed to and away from her. It was messy, heated, and grand all at the same time. The jungle humidity wrought perspiration that left them drenched, but a sense of well-being accompanied satiation with joy.  
  
Roxton tucked his arm securely around Marguerite, pulling her back to him, and used the other to stroke the damp hair from her brow. Both were still a little breathless from an encounter that piled yet another layer of involvement between them, that was slowly wrapping them together, binding as securely as any legal ceremony that ever graced a mighty cathedral. A sense of time and place blurring swam before them, as old feelings, very old feelings reveled in the creation of new sensations and experiences.   
  
Marguerite did not ask, but the question hung in the air. Roxton gently tugged at her and she turned to face him.   
  
"He just asked for my help," Roxton said softly. "He didn't threaten or beg or demand. He simply said that I was probably the only one who could help him."  
  
"Sounds serious," Marguerite tilted her head slightly, thinking. "He's seldom completely honest, even when confronted with hard facts," she mused aloud. "If he's this straight-forward in a letter than can be read by the messenger and anyone who could intercept that message, it must be very bad."  
  
"It's couched in terms that rather negate its seriousness, Marguerite," Roxton assured her. "He mentions a party he holding in honor of negotiations he's entered into with a local tribe, and being that they are human, he could use my help with the planning and details of the treaty."  
  
Marguerite snuggled into his arms and said, "That is very serious. He'd never ask for help from a human, not even you, for something like that."  
  
"I know," Roxton agreed with a sigh and he rubbed his face in her hair and inhaled deeply. "That's why I'm going tomorrow," came his slightly muffled reply.  
  
"And why I'll be accompanying you," Marguerite said in a velvet-wrapped steel voice.  
  
"Of course, my dear," Roxton acceded far too easily.  
  
"Don't even think of leaving me behind, Roxton," Marguerite stared at him, her anger as evident as her fear for him.  
  
Roxton lifted his head and looked directly at her, "I would never leave you behind, Marguerite." The firmness of his voice and the pharos within his eyes warned her that he had a large "but" coming at the end of this. "I would ask you to stay, though," he said finally, his voice returning to normal, but his eyes retaining their glitter.  
  
Marguerite stared away from him as tears filled her eyes. It was never easy, she thought. He was using the very means she had used with many men to get what she wanted, playing on their emotions, their needs. She had never once thought about how it felt on the other end. Well, now she knew. The fact that Roxton meant only the best for her did little to negate the loss she felt. She had always thought that she worked well with him, that he trusted her to watch his back. He loved her enough to have sex with her, to argue with her, to even have fun with her. But, he obviously did not love her enough to know that to watch him leave without her, knowing he was going into danger, was tantamount to her death.   
  
Oh, she might be alive, but that being that John had brought to life, that delicate butterfly made up of a fragile mixture of love, affection, and trust, it would wither as he went out of sight. She loved being that person more than she had ever realized until now. And now was when she could loose her, if she didn't make him see what this meant to her.  
  
"John," she began huskily, still facing away from him. "I don't think you understand…"  
  
"I understand that I don't want you with me, Marguerite," Roxton insisted, the fear that coiled round him at the thought of anything happening to Marguerite clawing at his chest, his very breath.  
  
"I know," she said after a moment, then rose to get dressed. She had failed even before she had begun. It was a rather familiar feeling. Now, she had to make the familiar exit before she lost all control.  
  
"Marguerite, what the devil are you doing?" Roxton's voice held fear disguised as anger still.  
  
"Surely, your powers of observation are greater than that, Lord Roxton," Marguerite tried to be snide, but it sounded more like a little girl trying hard not to cry because someone had yet again pushed her away. "I'm getting dressed."  
  
"Why?" Roxton said hollowly, the coils tightening again, making him feel ill.  
  
"Because, it's obvious we're done here," Marguerite said with false brightness. "It's my turn to cook dinner, and if I want to make anything remotely edible, I'll have to get started right away. I'm sure the others will be back before too long," she moved to pick up her blouse that lay in the doorway to his room.  
  
He was up and out of bed, swiftly moving over to her, grabbing her arm as she bent down for her blouse. "Leave it," he snarled, unable to get hold of his emotions. It was like he was sixteen again; angry, upset, and confused, but longing, always longing for something he couldn't quite understand, but knew he needed, desperately.  
  
"Let go of me, please," Marguerite said wearily as they stood up.   
  
Roxton's grip lessened, but he didn't release her, choosing to slide his hand up her arm to cup her face. "What did I say?" he said at length, resignation in his tone that he'd again harmed the very person he'd defend to his death and beyond. When was he ever going to learn not to hurt her?  
  
Marguerite looked at Roxton, really looked at him, realizing for the first time that his fears were driving him hard, giving him no rest. And, she knew that he hated that feeling; it angered and shamed him that fear could have such a hold on him. Had had such a hold on him before. Understanding washed over her at recognition that his innate sense of responsibility had been whetted by his feelings for her to a sharpness that defied rationality.  
  
She nuzzled his hand with her face and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. This had better be good, Marguerite, she told herself. This is his soul we're talking about here. "All right," she said quietly. "I'll stay. But, please, take Veronica and Malone, take Finn or Challenger even, just don't go alone." Opening her eyes, she gazed at him, her own fears stark within.  
  
"Dear God, Marguerite," Roxton realized what he'd done. He enfolded her within his arms and held her tightly, rocking back and forth slightly. She was crying, really crying, and he had reduced her to that. "I never meant that I didn't want you with me, not that way anyway," he tried to explain, but kept stumbling over his words. "I don't want anyone to go with me. I won't put them into danger because I feel an obligation to Tribune that I know that you and the others don't," he shuddered, then plowed on. "I love you so much; I never want you in danger, Marguerite. But, I know that if I needed someone to back me up, there would be no question that you would be the first person I'd chose." He stopped, frustrated that he couldn't reach her, make her understand.  
  
"You trust me?" came a small voice.   
  
"Marguerite, I trust you with my life," he spoke hoarsely.   
  
"Then, let me defend it," she replied through her tears. "Let me give back to you what you have given to me so many times. Accept me and show me that you love me, all of me, even the horrible, awful parts of me that are so ugly I can't bear to show you them."  
  
"There is absolutely nothing ugly about you, any part of you, Marguerite," Roxton insisted and he stroked her hair and rocked her against his body. "And, I love every last bit of you, down to your last alias, the last slightly shady deal, the last bloody secret, and the last time you gave of yourself for your friends' lives, and for me. I love all of you - do you hear me?" he insisted.  
  
"Yes," she sobbed once, then her voice steadied. "But, you can't leave me, not now, not ever! I have to go, don't you see. I have to be a part of it, or you'll always want me to stay behind. And, it would kill me, bit by bit, to watch you walk away each time," she finished brokenly.  
  
Roxton looked down at her and pulled from deep within himself the ability say, "But, I'm so afraid, Marguerite." His voice was barely audible.  
  
"So am I, John," she replied. "That's why I need to be with you, because you take away all my fears," she touched his face, pulling it toward hers. "When I'm with you, I want to be a better person. You make me a better person. I'm safe with you and you love me. I've waited so long for you; I can't bear the thought of giving up any time at all away from you."  
  
"And, I can't bear the thought of you being harmed, dying because of me," Roxton said, his own eyes bright with unshed tears.   
  
"Oh, God, what are we going to do, John?" Marguerite almost whispered this last as she buried herself in his shoulder and held on as tightly as she could. Roxton's arms were like a vise around her, but somehow weren't tight enough.  
  
Roxton thought for a bit more, then answered, "We're both going to have to trust more, Marguerite. Trust each other in a way we've never done before in our lives."  
  
"I'm not so very good with trust, John," Marguerite said shakily. "Giving or receiving it," she added with regret.  
  
"Neither am I," Roxton replied. "But, I'll go first," he started to say.  
  
"No," Marguerite said suddenly, understanding what she had to do. "I have to go first, don't you see? I never trusted, never wanted to let go. It's been my flaw every time, and you know it. I've learned better now, and I understand better." She took a deep breath.   
  
"No," Roxton shook his head with a smile. "You don't have to." Suddenly, he felt free, free of fear, free of anger and shame. And, Marguerite, as usual, had given him the gifts.   
  
Puzzled, Marguerite's first impulse was to think he considered her unable to make the commitment to the truth. Then, she looked at his eyes, clear and greenly shining with a buoyancy that never failed to stir within her so many reactions it was impossible to categorize them. They were simply filled with the essence of him. That which was Lord John Roxton at his best was back within their depths. Her heart soared.   
  
"I'm still afraid," said Roxton with a slight frown.   
  
"So am I," Marguerite offered back softly.  
  
"But, I think what's different this time is, we're afraid together," Roxton decided, tucking her close. "And we'll go – together."  
  
Marguerite nodded once, but didn't say anything more, and rested her head on his shoulder.   
  
***  
  
Dinner was amusing for Roxton and Marguerite. Watching the others dodge the topic of their afternoon together, they exchanged many looks between them of suppressed laughter.   
  
Malone cornered Roxton by the sink he was filling with water for the dishes and said, "And?"  
  
A smile tugged at Roxton's lips, but he managed to say, "What?" with a straight face.  
  
"You know what I mean, and don't go denying it, Roxton," Malone said exasperated. At Roxton's headshake, he continued, "You spent the entire afternoon, alone, with Marguerite. Challenger practically hijacked the rest of us to go hunt for his bugs…"  
  
"Wasps," Roxton helpfully clarified with a slight smugness.  
  
"Wasps," Malone nodded, allowing him his point. "We re-checked the wiring for the windmill, weeded the garden, then took a nice walk to the pond to check the water level – ALL so you and Marguerite could work out whatever the problem was between you. And, what I want to know is: Did It Work?" Malone leaned forward at this last and spoke with emphasis.  
  
"I had no idea you were working on an advice to the lovelorn column, Neddy-boy," Roxton shot back.  
  
"So, at least you're admitting you're in love," Malone pointed out triumphantly.  
  
Roxton blinked, then grinned, "Yes, I suppose it's pretty obvious by now."  
  
"Just a little," chuckled Malone. "So, have you worked it out between you?"  
  
"You mean, is it safe to talk to Marguerite?" Roxton jibed.  
  
"Yes," Malone replied with only partially mocked solemnity.   
  
"I think so," Roxton answered thoughtfully. "It's still a bit difficult for us at times, but I think it's going pretty well so far."  
  
"You're still intent on going to the Lizard City tomorrow, aren't you?" Malone confirmed, now very serious.  
  
"Yes," Roxton replied. At Malone's steady look, he continued, "I know you think I'm crazy, and maybe I am, but Tribune is, well, he's a friend of mine and he's asked for my help."  
  
"He's the sort of friend who'd slit your throat for six bits plus change, Roxton," Malone objected.  
  
"Perhaps," Roxton said with a slight smile. "The fact remains, he saved my life, more that once."  
  
"Your debt to him, if there ever really was one, was paid in full when we rescued him from Centuria over a year ago, Roxton," the younger man insisted. "You don't owe him one damn thing more."  
  
"I suppose you may be right," Roxton allowed. "But, when someone asks for help…"  
  
"You just can't ignore them," Malone finished. "Even if they were your enemy, you'd help them." Malone admired Roxton his ideals, and at the same time felt relieved that he didn't have to live up to them. It was a tall order, even for someone like Roxton.  
  
"Sorry, Neddy-boy," shrugged Roxton. "I –"  
  
"It's all right, Roxton," Malone smiled back. "I understand. Just remember that your friends are here, too," and walked back to the table to clear the rest of the dishes.  
  
"I know, Malone," Roxton whispered to the younger man's retreating back, feeling a strange tightness in his throat that he couldn't swallow away. He turned to get started on the dishes.  
  
***  
  
The pre-dawn light seeped through the jungle, touching on life that was already busily in the process of survival and propagation. Ambient sounds sifted through to where Roxton re-checked his pack in his room, but he had long ago ceased to hear the cacophony of usual sounds, only noticing when the deadly absence of noise indicated a predator or a sound that did not belong showed up. A buzz of conversation came through from upstairs, and he wondered who was up so early, and why.  
  
Heaving his pack by one strap up to his shoulder, he grabbed an extra blanket, thinking that he'd get some leather straps to hook it to the top of his pack upstairs. He still needed to pack some extra food and one more set of ammunition to feel more fully prepared. Head down, he trudged up the stairs thinking of the best route to set off for the Lizard City to avoid the known hazards of the Plateau. That still wouldn't take care of any of Challenger's bloody shifting planes of reality, as they had all taken to calling the unusual phenomena that dogged the Plateau and themselves at the oddest and most inconvenient of times. Those were things wholly unto themselves and had to be dealt with as they came up.   
  
"Good Morning, Roxton," came George's almost irritatingly cheerful greeting, causing Roxton to look up and see Challenger standing at the table, sipping from a cup.  
  
"Coffee's ready," Malone chirped from the stove, where he was pouring himself a cup.  
  
"Thank God," murmured Marguerite as she held her cup up for a re-fill, gazing at Malone with worshipful appreciation.  
  
"Or tea if you like," added Challenger. "Wonderful scones, Veronica," he mumbled sitting back down, his mouth full.  
  
"It's the new crop of red berries," Veronica qualified as she handed the plate to Malone, who gazed at it with interest as he sat down. "You just can't go wrong baking with them." Malone grinned his appreciation as he took two.  
  
"You mean, you can't go wrong," Marguerite quipped snagging a scone, passed by a still speechless Roxton, and sat down at the table. The others laughed as she turned in her chair and said, "Sit down, John. I'm sure your mother taught you never to eat standing up."   
  
Roxton sank into the chair next to her, that thickness in his throat back again. He tried to speak, had to clear his throat, then managed, "Pass the scones, please." He saw a pile of knapsacks near the elevator, along with some other sundry supplies. His throat closed again, and he swallowed hard. He barely felt Marguerite's hand slide into his under the table as she sipped delicately from her coffee cup. Veronica handed him the plate with a smile and Challenger said, "Tea?" At Roxton's somewhat numb nod, he poured him a cup, placed it on its saucer, and handed it to the lord.   
  
"Morning," groaned Finn as she stumbled out of the elevator, milk bucket in hand. "You better have saved me a scone, Vee," she grumbled as she set the milk down and got the strainer from under the counter. Veronica pointed to a plate on the counter next to where Finn stood. She grinned in appreciation, scooped one up and bit down. With her mouth full and completely ignoring Challenger's visible wincing said, "That damn goat's over at the Zanga village for the duration. Assai says hi, and the cheese will be ready next week."  
  
General conversation and breakfast proceeded normally from there, but Roxton knew that he'd never forget that morning.  
  
***  
  
  
A friend should be a master at guessing and keeping still: you must not want to see everything.   
  
Friedrich Nietzsche (1844–1900)  
  
***  
  
It took them a good two days to reach the outskirts of Lizard territory. The extension of the usual time was primarily due to a new mountain that had appeared in their path where none had been the year before. Challenger had taken a few minutes to scan several lava domes with his glass, pronouncing it an active strato-type volcano that bore watching. Hiking around the mountain, and the subsequent three other hills, a new river, and avoiding a nasty looking group of people that were camped near the river took the rest of the time. The delay chafed at Roxton, but he knew better than to push travel on the Plateau. The years they had lived here had taught them all well.  
  
"This valley has definitely changed since the last time I passed through here," Malone asserted as they reached the head of the long valley that led to the lowlands where the Lizard people lived.  
  
"That was how long ago, Malone?" Challenger did not look up from perusing his maps.  
  
"Oh, about six months ago, I'd say," Malone replied thoughtfully. "Give or take a week."  
  
"What were you doing around here, Ned?" Veronica asked with a smile.  
  
"I thought I'd talk to some of the people who lived near the Lizards, see what they thought of them. Get their story so to speak," Malone answered, taking a swig from his canteen, then handing it to Veronica. "They live so close to danger from the animal life as well as the Lizards, yet they have a very complex and rich culture. Very interesting people," he added nodding.  
  
Roxton came back from scouting ahead and reported, "Looks clear down the valley from any large predators. No sign of raptors or Trogs or even Lizards for that matter."  
  
Marguerite was sharing her canteen with Finn, who looked up at this last. "Shouldn't there be some sign of those Lizards guys by now? I mean, I thought you said they were all over the place here," she said to Marguerite.  
  
Marguerite was thoughtful, "This is a major highway for them. It's extremely odd that there aren't any wagons on it; they have a very brisk trade with several tribes along this road."  
  
"When I was staying with the Mapuches not far from here, we only saw a few wagons passing by on this road," Malone offered.  
  
"Something's very wrong," Marguerite asserted, taking her canteen back from Finn who nodded her thanks and handing it unasked to Roxton who had taken off his hat and was wiping the sweat from his brow. "When I was conferencing with Centuria on the kingdom's economic potential, she specifically mentioned that they were increasing the trade routes in order to obtain more goods for the city, that they couldn't seem to get enough of them to satisfy the populace."  
  
"Very interesting," Challenger said suddenly, looking up from his maps at last. "This valley has moved at least twenty miles to the west," he announced with satisfaction.  
  
"And just how did you come to that conclusion, George?" Roxton asked with wonder.  
  
"You recall the last time we returned from our trip to the Lizard City, I took the liberty of taking some measurements and securing reference points for maps," Challenger replied in a scholarly voice. Finn grimaced, but appeared to be paying attention, and the others simply waited for the denouement. "Well, that outcropping of the upper hillside is in the same place as I make reference to Peak Four of the Barrier Mountains to the east, but the headwaters of this river, which Malone informs me he named the Hudson, has moved. Also, the midpoint of the valley has shifted, and the three small hills there are gone," he shrugged his shoulders. "Ergo, this valley has moved. Add onto that the volcanic mountain and the news hills and river we passed this morning, plus the subtle changes in climate, I'd say this particular region of the Plateau has experienced a massive shifting of its plane of reality."  
  
"Could that have anything to do with what's going on with the Lizards?" Veronica wondered. It seemed odd to be concerned with the Lizards, but she was.  
  
"It doesn't appear to be anything good," Marguerite observed sighing. It was hot and she was tired.  
  
"We'll have to get going and find out, now won't we?" Roxton said capping Marguerite canteen and handing it back to her with a smile. "If we get a move on, shifting plane of reality or not, we can make the Lizard City before nightfall."  
  
"With beds and baths," agreed Marguerite smiling back, wan but game.  
  
"You know, I don't remember it being this hot here," Malone remarked as they started down the valley toward the Lizard City.  
  
***  
  
The very first indication that things had changed in the Lizard City was evident when the group reached the outskirts. Where once there had been sentries from the seemingly endless number of soldiers in Tribune's army, empty guard shacks stood with an abandoned appearance. The road was not dusty, though it appeared by the dryness of the vegetation that it had not rained in some time. They passed through the partially open gates of the city with no challenge or a sign of any guards.   
  
There was an absence of noise that made Roxton and the others extremely uneasy. They kept looking about and then at one another with puzzled looks on their faces as they progressed into the city proper. There were few pedestrians on the streets, and those quickly went inside when they saw the humans approaching. They odd thing was, they were much shorter in stature than the lizards they were used to seeing.   
  
"I don't like this," Veronica said glancing around. "It's too quiet, and why are they acting like they're afraid of us instead of calling the guards to try and capture us?"  
  
"Something's really wrong," Marguerite pointed to the metal works that dominated the south wall of the city. "The metal works are in production twelve hours a day to keep up with demand for armor," she said concerned. "Or, at least they were," she added as they gazed at the idle forges.  
  
"Let's get to Tribune's palace," Roxton said grimly. "Maybe he'll have some answers for us about this."  
  
"Don't hold your breath," Malone muttered, really spooked by the practically deserted air about the formerly bustling city.  
  
They made their way to the palace, and only as they approached its very gates did they finally find a pair of guards. They appeared to be very small, their armor fit poorly, and they could barely lift their swords to confront the group of explorers.  
  
"We're here to see Emperor Tribune at his request," Roxton replied to their thready challenge. He held up the parchment that bore Tribune's distinctive signature. The two looked at each other, then the one on the left motioned them to pass. The group made their way through halls that were again conspicuously absent of any lizards and made to enter the grand chamber.   
  
Challenger remarked, "It's as if nine tenths of their population has just vanished."  
  
"Not vanished, Professor Challenger," Tribune looked up from the couch where he was reclining. His rich voice sounded tired as he continued, "Simply deceased I'm afraid."  
  
"Killed in a massive battle, huh?" Finn asserted nodding, looking around at the furnishings, which were rich, but extremely dusty.  
  
"Charming creature, Marguerite," Tribune said archly as Roxton and her crossed over to where he reclined, apparently alone in the chamber with no attendants. "Where did you find her?"  
  
"Never mind Finn," Marguerite came closer and knelt down beside Tribune, looking at his eyes, which were dull and lacked their usual cunning and vivacity. "What's wrong?"  
  
"Just a touch under the weather, my dear Marguerite," Tribune replied ruefully.   
  
"Lizards don't get sick," she shot back flatly.  
  
"Try again," Roxton came up next to Marguerite and looked down where Tribune reclined. "What's happened?" He couldn't keep the concern out of his voice, though the irritation at Tribune acting as if all were normal was apparent also.  
  
"Always so intent on taking the direct route to anything, Lord Roxton," Tribune lamented drolly, but his voice cracked in the middle, taking away some of its élan. Coughing slightly, he took a sip from a goblet that was on a small table in front of him. He continued, "That's really rather why I sent for you and your friends. I don't know what's going on, and I rather desperately need to find out."  
  
"What is the problem exactly?" Challenger asked. "Why have so many of your people died?"  
  
"We don't know," Tribune said tiredly. "About a year ago, lizards starting getting sick. It was extremely irritating, you know. Guards calling in sick and unable to perform their duties, workers couldn't work and production fell off, even the prisoners became unable to fight. Then, they just started….dying. Then, they kept on dying," his voice trailed off, a numb sort of horror imbued it.  
  
"Under normal circumstance, lizards do not get sick?" Challenger queried, immensely intrigued.  
  
"Oh, some do, but most not at all, and not once they've reached their full growth," Tribune answered, swinging his legs around and sitting up. It was not a very good idea, because his head swam and he had the oddest taste in his mouth. Limbs that had always been so dependably strong failed to do his bidding, and Roxton caught him before he toppled over. He couldn't meet the lord's eyes as he shook his head to clear it. "Thank you," he mumbled embarrassed.  
  
"You're welcome," Roxton replied in an equally low voice, moving back after Tribune had steadied a bit. The others just looked on silently, completely nonplussed by the sight before them. Tribune always seemed so larger than life, irritating and sometimes deadly, but rather dependable in a way, like bad weather during the rainy season.  
  
"You should be in bed," Marguerite stated, unaware that the others were staring at her now. Then, she looked up and noticed the strange looks on everyone's faces except Roxton, whose mouth was turned up in a small smile. They still really didn't understand her after all this time. She pursed her mouth, shook her head, and gestured toward Challenger and said, "You all didn't give him such a hard time for making a pet out of a beetle or those two for rescuing it." She waved her hand toward Veronica and Finn.  
  
"It is a great comfort to me that I rank as well as a beetle in your regard, Marguerite," Tribune said with solemnity.  
  
"You just hush," Marguerite actually felt his forehead, and it was a toss up who was more surprised, Tribune or the others save Roxton. "You're warm," her brows furrowed slightly with her surprise. She looked closely at his face and noticed a large patch of very light green scales on his neck that oozed a clear liquid. His tall form appeared almost gaunt. "How long has it been since you've eaten?" Marguerite asked in a low voice.  
  
"Several days," admitted Tribune, unable to decide if he was touched or irritated by her concern.   
  
"Stupid lizard," Marguerite hissed, still in a low voice. "Are you trying to kill yourself, after we dragged ourselves all the way here over the last two days. Do you know how hot it is outside?"   
  
Irritated, definitely irritated. "Well, actually, no, Marguerite," Tribune replied snidely, gesturing to the couch where he'd been laying prostrate, "I don't." He watched her turn suddenly away and move closer to Roxton. Only then did he understand. Silly humans, having affection for someone that could eat them. Still, it was rather nice that he had asked for help and they came. Marguerite was murmuring something to Roxton, and then she moved off, taking an empty pitcher with her.  
  
Roxton moved back in front of Tribune, tugged a stool over and sat next to the lizard. Challenger and the others had moved to a group of chairs near one wall and were conversing amongst themselves.  
  
"Marguerite tells me that you've not eaten in several days," Roxton began.  
  
"Marguerite's been telling tales out of school," Tribune said sourly. A bout of coughing overtook him suddenly, and he began wheezing.   
  
Roxton was unsure what do to for him. He spied the wineglass on the small table. He grasped it and held it up so Tribune could see it. Tribune shook his head and continued to cough a little more, then the fit subsided. Roxton replaced the glass, concern tightening his features, completely at a loss as to how to proceed. The two unlikely friends looked at each other, as if to ask 'What do we do next?'  
  
***  
  
"I still don't get why you guys are so hot to help this lizard guy, when he's tried to kill you, what like twice?" Finn asked shaking her head.  
  
"More like three times," Malone replied with a laugh. "It's hard to explain, but once you get to know Tribune, it's like you really can't hold it against him. Mostly, anyway," he added.  
  
"He's proven to be a good ally in the past," Challenger allowed.  
  
"When it suited him," Veronica said with a rueful smile.  
  
"True," nodded Challenger, quirking a half-grin. "But, he appears to need our help rather badly this time, and I'm inclined to give it to him. Keeping a rather sharp watch for any unforeseen hazards," he amended wryly.  
  
Veronica and Ned laughed and the three turned to Finn. "It's all of us or nothing," Veronica's statement really was a question.  
  
Finn didn't quite get this whole 'He's kind of our enemy, but we like him anyway' thing. In her world, somebody was either a good guy or a bad guy. Mostly, there were bad guys. If you turned your back, you were liable to find a knife stuck in it as not. Oh, well…. She'd learned to trust them as individuals and as a group; she didn't need to be second-guessing them now. "I'm in," Finn assured them. "But, I'm keeping a close eye on these lizard dudes. They give me the creeps."  
  
Challenger said that he wanted to get to work immediately on the puzzle of the mysterious affliction the lizards had contracted, so he headed straight for the lab he'd been to in a previous visit, Finn in tow for assistance. Malone and Veronica left the main chamber to secure rooms for the group to sleep in and get something for them to eat. Tribune had assured them that they had been given carte blanche in the palace and the kingdom for that matter. It seemed to hold true, for when they did meet anyone, and there were very few that they did, they were bowed to as if of the highest of ranks. It was a little disconcerting, but better than their previous visits.   
  
Marguerite returned to the main chamber, having talked to Challenger and the others in passing, to find Tribune and Roxton talking in low tones. She quietly walked to a small alcove on the other end of the chamber and eased down the pitcher of water she had fetched. She had intended to clean his wound, but Tribune appeared to need to talk with Roxton more. She drew the curtains, retrieved a mostly clean handkerchief from her pocket, and began taking off her blouse for a quick wash. Not the hot bath she had been looking forward to, but it was better than remaining in her trail dirt. She reviewed all that they had seen on their journey and in the city itself. It seemed very odd and completely disconcerting. It was a puzzle she wished to unravel, but would need more information, which Roxton was sure to garner from Tribune faster and more accurately than any of the others, herself included. After her wash, she lay down on the small divan to rest. Roxton would collect her when it was time.  
  
***  
  
"You'll forgive me, but the defenses of your city are seriously lacking," Roxton began. "As for the palace, a pair of children with weapons they can barely hold and armor that is fairly falling off them is a less than an awe inspiring deterrent for a prospective enemy," he added earnestly.  
  
"It is fortunate for me then, that you are not an enemy, Lord Roxton," Tribune replied in his smarmiest voice.  
  
"Well, I damn well could have been, and I could have taken over your city in less than fifteen minutes," Roxton shot back. "Where are your guards, your soldiers?"  
  
"Weren't you paying attention? They're dead," Tribune said tiredly, wearying of the game he had always so relished between them. "Almost all of my troops are dead or somewhere dying. Truth be told, I rather fancy I'm dying," he sighed, his tone remarkable for its lack of melodrama.  
  
Roxton shook his head, bemused, "You can't; you're too stubborn to die."  
  
"Stubbornness being a quality you'd recognize," Tribune replied dryly. "And, yes, my symptoms fit those poor unfortunates that I have seen that later died. I estimate I have a few weeks left at best. That's why I sent for you."  
  
"You think you're dying, and that's why you sent for me?" Roxton's voice held incredulous anger. "Why the hell didn't you send for us before? We might have been able to help before…"  
  
"Before a majority of the population was exterminated?" Tribune finished.  
  
"At least to help you," Roxton countered sharply.  
  
"I'm touched," Tribune was only halfway mocking, and it disturbed him no end. "Because my Council of Advisors would not allow me to consult outside of the lizard community," he explained sardonically. "They feared the local human tribes would perceive the weakness and swoop down on us to tear us to shreds."  
  
"Council of Advisors?" Roxton queried. "Since when do you have one of those?"  
  
"Since Centuria managed to single-handedly strip all the nobles of most of their wealth and what little power they had and relegate them to a largely ceremonial status in the short time she was Empress," Tribune explained acidly. "After I regained my more lofty social status, I was presented a list of demands by the Council. Being that they held the loyalty of the Army and the Palace Guards, not to mention all the servants, I felt it a sagacious move on my part."  
  
"They wanted more of the power and control in the affairs of the empire?" Roxton asked.  
  
"Oh, no," Tribune said. "They didn't want to do anything. Rather exceptionally lazy our nobles, nothing like you," he added shaking his head. Roxton nodded in acknowledgement. "They just wanted their wealth and titles back, and a sense of security. They were content to have me lead them. Well, for the most part," he added thoughtfully. "There were one or two executions for treason. But, they were minor matters at best," he waved his hand dismissingly. "Then, for some reason, they all started getting sick. No rhyme nor reason to it. Rich lizard, poor lizard, worker or noble. All of them started becoming ill, got worse, then started dying in droves. The council was adamant about not letting any word of the illness get out, so by the time they decided it might be prudent to ask for assistance, it was too late," an air of defeat cloaked the lizard, settling over him as he wavered, suddenly dizzy.  
  
Roxton caught him as he almost tumbled to the ground again and eased him back on the couch. "I think you'd best take it easy, old boy," he rumbled softly.  
  
"I do believe I need to take a bit of a rest now, Lord Roxton," Tribune answered faintly. "If you'll forgive me…"  
  
"I'll be here," Roxton answered softly, aware that Tribune had fallen asleep so quickly, it might be forgiven for someone thinking that he had passed out. He sat there for quite a while, looking at the creature who had been both his enemy and his mostly unwilling comrade-in-arms, and had somehow ended up as his friend.   
  
***  
  
Extraordinary creature! So close a friend, and yet so remote.   
  
Thomas Mann (1875–1955)  
  
***  
  
"Do you think you can figure out what's been killing these lizards off?" Finn idly asked from where she sat back up against the wall, balanced on the two back legs of a chair.  
  
"I certainly hope so," Challenger replied absently as he gazed at a list he had been working on ever since they had arrived in the palace's lab. Thankfully, the best of the lizard's equipment was still stored there, although it was rather dusty. Challenger had found paper and pen, and had been busily composing the list of his wants and needs to unravel the puzzle of the illness plaguing Tribune's people.  
  
"Can you explain to me why we should care if they all die off?" she asked.  
  
Challenger looked up at this and turned to reply, "Because Tribune has asked for our help."  
  
"But, Tribune isn't your friend; he's Roxton's. Not a really great friend either, from what you've told me," she objected.  
  
Challenger put down his pen and walked over to Finn, who rocked forward so all four legs of her chair were on the floor. He sat down next to her and said earnestly, "Everyone is important, Finn, and deserves to live. John Donne said, 'Any man's death diminishes me because I am involved in Mankind.'"  
  
"I don't know this Donne guy, but Tribune's not a man. He's a lizard; they're all lizards. And, they're your enemies and would kill you in a second if they were strong enough," she canted her head to one side, a slight grimace on her face. "Our enemies now."  
  
"But, if we help them in their time of need, they may grow to become our friends and allies. As you well know, on this Plateau, you cannot have too many friends," Challenger replied gently. "And, as strange as it seems, Tribune is Roxton's friend, and I believe a friend of sorts to all of us."  
  
Finn puzzled over this a bit. "So, you want to help them because you think you can get them all to be your friends, not just Tribune?'  
  
"Yes," Challenger smiled at his young protégé.  
  
"I certainly hope you're right," Finn stated with a sigh. "It could get real ugly if they decide they're not grateful for our help."  
  
Challenger's eyebrows rose. Then, he nodded to her in acknowledgment of her point, looking thoughtful as he returned to his list making, peering at the piles of equipment.  
  
***  
  
Roxton found Marguerite napping as he pulled the curtain back on the alcove he'd watched her duck into when she returned to the chamber. Grateful that she'd allowed him to talk uninterrupted with Tribune, he now wanted to discuss that matter with her. Needed her very keen assessment skills applied to this knotty problem. Marguerite understood political dynamics and power brokering better than most MP's, and had the added advantage of having spent a great deal of time in Centuria's company and knew the lizard society the best of all of them.  
  
He sat down on the end of the divan she lay on, and gazed at her face. Fatigue was evident, and she had a fragile air about her that belied her strength. Her beauty did not mask but enhanced the determination that lay within her. So still she lay, but he knew that in a situation such as this, the smallest noise or movement that didn't match the surrounding would cause her to wake instantly. Souvenirs from her days under cover, he mused. Then, a thought came to him. She'd spent almost her whole life "under cover", being first one then another character, never allowed to just be Marguerite, or whoever she was. Small wonder she had trouble sleeping, thus would often over sleep in the morning. He hated to wake her, but time was short, and they needed a plan. He stood up, moved to the head of the divan and sat on a small footstool next to her.   
  
"Marguerite," he called softly, one hand caressing a lock of hair back from her forehead, then curving down to cradle her cheek.  
  
Her eyes opened slowly, a small smile formed, and pleasure lit her face. "Hello," she replied simply.   
  
Roxton said nothing, time forgot as he was caught up in her eyes. She likewise seemed unable to stop staring at him. Gently, he slid his thumb over her lips, stroking them several times, invoking an almost involuntary response from Marguerite to open her mouth. His thumb slid into her mouth and glided over her teeth, pausing to test the sharpness of a couple of them, then made it's way to her tongue. He paused there for a moment, circling its tip, then headed for the inside of her cheek, petting its softness, then coming to rest at the corner of her mouth. His hand then slid down her face to cup the back of her neck, tugging her still bemusedly open mouth to his. Several long, pleasurable moments later, he released her back to recline on the divan, but kept his hand resting on her shoulder.  
  
"I like the way you wake me up," she said huskily.  
  
"My pleasure," Roxton replied sincerely with his warm sweet smile. Her face lit with the deep smile that he'd seen only a few times in the whole of their acquaintance, and the paused a moment to just enjoy one another's presence.   
  
Presently, Marguerite reached over and caught one of his fingers and played a bit with it. "You woke me for a reason, and I guess you'd better tell me now, even though I know I won't like it," her smile had turned a bit sad.  
  
"Tribune's filled me in a bit on what's happened here," Roxton replied, looking down at their hands. "It's not good."  
  
"I didn't think it would be," she said with a sigh. Stoking her hand and tugging at her fingers, he relayed the information that Tribune had imparted.  
  
Marguerite shook her head glumly, "I can't believe it. They have always seemed so invincible."  
  
Roxton looked into the distance, and his hand stilled, then grasped hers tightly. In an almost emotionless voice he said, "Tribune's dying."  
  
"Are you sure?" she asked, dismayed.  
  
"He told me himself, and after seeing him up close, I'm inclined to believe him," Roxton continued hollowly.  
  
"Oh, John," Marguerite exclaimed.  
  
"I'm not sure how I feel," Roxton turned to look at her. "I mean, he's tried to kill me, had me beaten, almost got me killed several times, and yet…"  
  
"He's your friend, and you like him," she finished with an ironic smile. "So, does that bother you? I mean, you like me," she added. "You do like me," she prompted wryly at his silence.  
  
Roxton looked up from where he was staring at their joined hands and replied, "Of course I like you Marguerite. What the devil does that have to do with…" his voice trailed off as he made the connection that she had so pointedly drawn. He paused a moment, unable to articulate his feelings. "He is my friend," he finally whispered, brought near to tears. "I can't lose another, not again," he shook his head. Marguerite tugged his head down into her lap and stroked his hair as the strongest man in the world faced his biggest fear – being unable to save yet another person in his life.   
  
"If anyone can help him, it's Challenger," Marguerite offered after a few minutes after Roxton's shuddering stopped.   
  
"Yes, I know," Roxton didn't move from where Marguerite held him with her soothing, rhythmic movements. She made him feel safe, an odd thing to crave for a man like him, but there it was. It was as if she held the world at bay for a few precious moments. Then, as always, he reached within himself to draw back together his resolve. He sat up and looked at his love.  
  
"Are you all right?" Marguerite asked him, the slight redness of her eyes mutely testifying to her own sorrow.  
  
"For now," Roxton replied. He drew in a breath, "We'll need an assessment of the defenses of the city, and an accounting of resources if we're to get this place back into shape before any of the local tribes that the lizards have irritated get wind of the decline of their security."  
  
"Well, since that list of tribes is probably a long one, we'd better hurry," Marguerite said acerbically.  
  
A mutual silent agreement to table the issue of Tribune's illness seemed to have come into force as the two rose to seek out Challenger and tell him and the others their news and ideas.  
  
***  
  
Compared with that good-will I bear my friend, the benefit it is in my power to render him seems small.   
  
Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803–1882)  
  
***  
  
  
Working their way through the palace was an eerie task, and Veronica and Malone did their best to locate the needed items quickly. Retainers were few and far between, and either couldn't or wouldn't speak to them. The small lizards wouldn't meet their eyes and bowed repeatedly and left as rapidly as they could. Finding food in the kitchens turned out to be a difficult task, there was little to be had except a few small dinosaurs that were kept in cages in a room off the main kitchen and some wrinkled fruit that was stored in a cold cellar. Even the wine cellar was almost empty. The viaducts that had carried the water to the palace were apparently not functioning, for when Malone tried the tap in the kitchen, nothing came out.  
  
"Everything is either broken or not working very well," Malone remarked as they finally located a linen closet and were taking down sheets to make up some beds.  
  
"I know," Veronica replied as they carried the sheets to the rooms they had picked out earlier. "They must have been having troubles for a long time for it to be this bad," she sneezed suddenly as the movements of the sheet she was putting on the bed disturbed a great layer of dust that seemed to be all pervasive in the palace. She nodded her thanks as Malone handed her his handkerchief, carefully tucking it away in her pocket.  
  
"Let's hurry up and finish here," Malone urged, feeling vaguely uncomfortable for some reason. "I'd like to get back to the others and see what they've found out." He smiled somewhat nervously at Veronica, who returned it and nodded her agreement to the plan. They moved quickly to finish making the beds.  
  
"We're going to have to find a water source," Veronica remarked as they made their way back toward the throne room. "We don't have enough left to last more than half a day."  
  
"It's so hot, I don't know how it will last that long," Ned said, using his arm to wipe sweat from his brow.  
  
"I know," she agreed worriedly, reaching up to touch his slightly overheated face. "Was it this hot when you were here last?" she asked.  
  
"No," Malone replied, reaching up to take her hand as they moved through the halls. As they neared the main chamber, he continued, "But that volcano we passed wasn't here either, so I guess a lot has changed."  
  
Upon entering the main chamber, they saw Marguerite and Roxton were with Tribune, who appeared to be a little better and was sitting up without help. Marguerite was fussing with the uncooperative lizard, attempting to examine his injured neck.  
  
Getting up to meet them, Roxton asked, "How'd it go?"  
  
"We found some rooms that are habitable - barely," replied Veronica, brushing away some dust that still clung to her arms with a look of mild disgust.  
  
"Which puts us all right in the room, but in definite trouble in the board department," Malone put in. "There isn't enough food in this palace to keep us going for more than a couple of days. And, that's if you like your Compsognathus raw," he added sardonically, alluding to the lack of cooking facilities inside the palace.  
  
"Doesn't everyone?" chimed in Tribune, earning him a dirty look from everyone except Malone, who was proud of himself for failing to rise to the ever so attractive bait that Tribune habitually offered. Marguerite shushed him and continued her examination of his neck.  
  
"Have you seen Challenger?" Marguerite asked as she dabbed some healing balm and wound a bandage lightly around Tribune's neck. Tribune winced, but was silent at a stern look from Marguerite. Roxton smirked a bit, but was careful to have his face schooled into blandness when she looked up from her task.  
  
"He went down to that lab in the lower level with Finn a while ago," said Malone as he pulled up a chair and gestured to Veronica to sit in it. Grabbing another chair, he sat down and added, "He seemed to have an idea of what he needed to investigate what happened to the liz --," Malone's face took on an even redder tinge as he glanced at Tribune.  
  
"Not to worry, Edward. You haven't offended me, much at any rate," Tribune answered with only a little bite in his tone. "But, as a journalist, I would think you would wish to be accurate as to the name of the people whose obituary you will be writing."  
  
"Obituary?" Malone was confused.  
  
"Alas, I fear that yours will be the only record that survives once the local human tribes get done with our fair Deinos Lacertium," Tribune replied, his voice uncharacteristically lacking any sarcasm at all.  
  
"That's the name of this place?" Veronica was surprised. "I've never heard it called anything but the Lizard City."  
  
"Well, we're not known for chatting nicely with our neighbors, my dear," Tribune replied somewhat ruefully. "Nor for sharing our history."  
  
"So what does it mean?" Malone asked, interested despite himself.  
  
"City of the fearfully great lizards," Roxton spoke slowly, then looked up to see the others gazing at him with some amazement. Only Marguerite was not surprised, her mouth curved in a smile. "Well, all those years of Latin and Greek at Eton and Oxford ought to have been good for something," he added wryly.   
  
"We call ourselves Lacertans," Tribune continued, finding it oddly comforting to share his people's history. "We've been around since the later days of the dinosaurs walking the whole earth, but time, climate changes, and the rise of a certain breed called Homo sapiens have relegated us to the Plateau as our only sanctuary. And, here is where we shall die out," he finished with a sigh.  
  
"Just roll over and die," nodded Roxton. "Good way for a warrior people to go out – with a whimper."  
  
"And just what would you suggest that I do, Lord Roxton?" Tribune was angry and disheartened at the same time. "I cannot wave my magic wand and make all things right again," he gestured with one hand. "When they were alive, the best of our healers could not fathom what was happening to us. The only ones that are left are juveniles less that two years old!"  
  
"There are no adults left except you?" Marguerite looked alarmed.  
  
"None," Tribune slumped down, his fiery display having drained his shallow reserve of strength. Roxton was there to assist him in sitting back on the divan, apology and sorrow mixed in his features. A light clasping of Tribune's hand on Roxton's arm bespoke the lizard's response, and a look of understanding passed between them.  
  
"So, that's why things aren't working very well around here," Veronica stated quietly and Tribune silently nodded.  
  
"There's no one to train them, is there?" Marguerite stated. Again Tribune mutely acknowledged the truth. "The juveniles aren't ready to take their part in society for at least three years. They spend their time in crèches with little contact with the rest of the population," she explained searching her memory for details.   
  
"She is essentially correct," Tribune stated with a smile for Marguerite. "You did pay attention to what Centuria taught you." She was unable to smile back, her eyes strangely bright and her face held firmly neutral.  
  
"What can we do to help?" Roxton's voice was rough and gravelly. Marguerite's hand sought his and held it; his grasp tightened on her hand but he gave no other response.   
  
"Unless Professor Challenger can work one of his miracles, the most that you'll be needed to do is to bury the last of us," Tribune said evenly. "It seems to take a bit longer, but even the young among us eventually succumb."  
  
The group gathered round the ruler looked taken aback by this statement given so matter of factly.   
  
"No, that's not acceptable," Roxton replied shaking his head. "Completely unacceptable, damnit!" he growled, standing to pace restlessly.   
  
"And unnecessary if I am correct," Challenger tone announced his presence and his absolute assurance that he was indeed correct as he strode into the chamber with his usual studied impatience, setting down a large bag he was carrying. Finn trailed after him, burdened with several rucksacks that appeared to be very full, and set them next to his with a grimace.  
  
"What's all this?" Roxton asked, gesturing to the stack of bags. The others just looked curiously from Challenger to the bags to Finn, who shrugged her shoulders.  
  
"The means of a solution to this problem," Challenger stated confidently.   
  
"Stand by for that miracle," Ned said sotto voce.  
  
"Indeed, not a miracle," Challenger insisted. "Something better – science!"  
  
"You found what the problem is," Marguerite said eagerly.  
  
"Not exactly," Challenger qualified. At their crestfallen expressions he hastened to, "Well, I believe I know what the problem is, but I need proof. Thus, the need for these," he gestured at the bags Finn and he had carted to the chamber.  
  
"Proof?" Malone questioned. "You're not making a presentation to the Royal Society, Challenger. What sort of proof do you need?"  
  
"Proof that my theory is correct, of course," the scientist raised his eyebrows. "How can I possibly diagnose and treat a problem if I don't have facts? Facts, sir, are the basis for any means of a solution," he added in his lecturer's voice. "I need samples and controls and someone to assist me in gathering this material," he gestured toward Finn, whose slight grimace acknowledged her role.  
  
Foreseeing a lengthy explanation, Marguerite headed Challenger off, "Just what do you hypothesize is the problem, George?"  
  
"Oh, didn't I mention that?" Challenger looked up from the straps of his rucksack that he was preparing to put on with mild surprise.  
  
"No, George, you didn't," Roxton's voice was patience itself, but his eyes spoke volumes about his frustration that was carefully held in check to those who chose to look at them.  
  
Challenger slung his rucksack on and donned his hat. "Arsenic poisoning," he stated flatly, as if it should have been obvious to any and all concerned.  
  
"Arsenic poisoning?" Malone's incredulity was mirrored on the faces of the others. "How did it happen?"  
  
"More to the point, how do we fix it?" Roxton added.  
  
"Indeed those are the very questions I am attempting to ascertain answer to. We will go out into the field," Challenger responded. "My initial test results using this crude equipment are very rough. And, I cannot tell the source of the poisoning. Finn and I will be taking samples for further testing."  
  
"What sort of things will you need to test?" Veronica asked.  
  
"Food and water sources," Challenger stated. "This sort of poisoning requires direct internal ingestion over a long time."  
  
"You will need to go to the source of our water," Tribune said.  
  
"Yes," Challenger responded. " And, as your people eat live prey as your primary food source, we'll need to check the water sources of the animals in the area."  
  
"That's a big area if you're talking some of the larger dinosaurs," Roxton noted.  
  
"We'll start with the water, then work our way to the animals, "Challenger replied clapping his hat on his head and began striding toward the door. He suddenly stopped and turned around, almost knocking Finn over in the process. "Did your healers keep any records of the treatment they gave?"  
  
"Yes, I believe they kept records," Tribune answered. "But, since they were singularly unsuccessful, I'm not sure they will do you much good."  
  
"They would be useful if only to know what not to do for treatment," Challenger said.   
  
"I understand," Tribune nodded. "There is a villa on a hill outside the city walls. It's to the south and overlooks the city. When there started to be so many affected, it was made into a hospital. The healers all went there to attempt to find a cure," his voice trailed off as he was caught up in the memory of faces that held fatigue, fear, and hopelessness as they reported failure after to failure to cure the malady that each day took a few more victims. He continued, "I believe they kept notes on their attempts to find a cure until they were unable to continue."  
  
"We could go to this villa and look for the records," Ned offered, gesturing to Veronica who nodded her agreement with the plan.  
  
"Very good," Challenger responded. "Finn and I will head to the intake of the city's viaducts and sample the water there and then to the hills where the stream source is, taking samples at various points along the way."  
  
"It's at least two days journey to the source waters," Tribune warned.  
  
"It's of no consequence," Challenger replied. "It must be done in order to find the source of the contamination."  
  
"Sure," Finn muttered. "But you're not the one carrying the heavy bags." Which earned her a commiserating look from Veronica and Malone.  
  
"I'm going to make a survey of the city's defenses and form a plan of action just in case some of the neighbors decide to come for a visit," Roxton stated.  
  
"I will be happy to assist you in this, Lord Roxton," Tribune said grandly.  
  
"I just bet you will," Roxton grinned at him.  
  
"Well then, we're off," Challenger declared and gestured to Finn, who picked up her rucksacks with a sigh and trooped after the scientist with a "See ya" to the others.  
  
"I just know I'll regret asking this," Marguerite said shaking her head. "But, just what am I supposed to be doing while all of you are so busily engaged?" Her sarcasm overlay her hurt that she had not been given any task to help and gave support to her belief that the others felt she was mostly a drag on resources and not much help most of the time.  
  
Roxton heard her unspoken distress in not being included in the assignments and looked at Malone and Veronica with a very distinct "help" look. The couples shrugged their shoulders and were unable to think of anything.   
  
Feeling rather like someone who'd showed up at a party without an invitation, Marguerite smiled her that's-all-right-it-doesn't-really-matter smile and began packing up the first-aid supplies that she had used to treat Tribune with. "I guess you'd better get going to that villa you two. You won't want to be outside the city walls after dark," she stood up with the first-aid box, looked at it blankly, and then carefully set it down again. Saying nothing to Roxton or Tribune, she walked out of the room, her back very straight.  
  
"She's right; we need to get going," Veronica said slowly, looking at the doorway where Marguerite had vanished through. Her voice held her distress at leaving when she knew that her friend was upset.  
  
"I'll talk to her," Roxton said softly, nodding at Ned and Veronica.  
  
Pausing to pick up his canteen, Malone joined Veronica as she made her way out the door that led to the entryway of the palace. Coming up behind her, he put his hand on her shoulder, causing her to pause and turn to him. "Roxton will explain it to her," he tried to assure her. "She'll know we didn't mean to leave her out – it's just that we need to hurry."  
  
"She knows that Ned," Veronica replied sadly. "She also thinks that we don't think that she can contribute anything."  
  
"That's not true," Malone objected. "Marguerite contributes all the time. She does all kinds of things."  
  
"Can you name me one thing that she did this last week?" Veronica questioned him. At his silence, she smiled grimly. "Neither could I until I thought about it. She does things that seem to get forgotten quickly, by us anyway."  
  
"Guilty as charged," Ned said sighing as they came out into the devastatingly bright sun and headed out to the southern gates of the city. "I guess I just take her talents for granted. She's so good at so many things; it's almost scary."  
  
"Roxton doesn't take her for granted," Veronica paused to get her bearings, then sighting the group of hills to the south, started off down a well-worn path, Malone at her side.  
  
"No, he doesn't," Ned replied smiling gently. "And, he will explain it to her. Assure her that she's important to us."  
  
"I know," Veronica looked pensive. "It's just that I think I need to remember to tell her myself when we get back."  
  
"You're right," Ned acknowledged, his kind eyes lit with affection as he looked at her. "I need to remember to tell you that you're important too, especially to me," he added softly.  
  
Veronica paused and turned to face Ned. "You really mean that," she stated, somewhat surprised by this open declaration.  
  
"I guess I should have told you before," Ned allowed, sighing. "All that time I was wandering around, trying to find myself, I kept telling myself that I wouldn't ever put off what needed doing or saying again. When I got back, things were so crazy, then that strange weather. I haven't had a lot of time to just talk with you," he paused and took her hand, stroking its palm with his thumb. Looking up at her he said, "You are so important to me, Veronica. You are the reason I'm alive, and not just because you've saved my life so many times before. It was the thought that I had to get back to you, to tell you how I felt that kept me alive through all the things that happened to me on my journey."  
  
"You were in danger," Veronica whispered. "I could feel it, every time. It was like I was ill, sick with fear, and I didn't know why then, but I know now. I dreamed of you. You were in danger and were so alone and sad."  
  
"I'm so sorry," Ned tugged her into his arms. "I had to go so I could come back. I didn't understand then."  
  
"I was so stupid and afraid," Veronica buried her face in the hollow of his shoulder. "I should have never said what I did."  
  
"It's all right," he assured her. "I really do want to be your friend," he added softly. "I just want to be your lover too," he stated in a low, clear voice before he kissed her.  
  
Their mouths met softly at first, testing and remembering. Then, the tone changed, and hungers long curbed but never forgotten slipped their leashes. Stumbling off the path into the shade of a tree, the two slid to their knees, their mouths barely releasing the other as they moved. After a time, they slid apart enough to look at one another, panting slightly, their looks almost feral with need.  
  
"We have to go get those notes," Ned finally said, rubbing up and down her arms.   
  
"I know," Veronica whispered back, nuzzling his cheek, delighting in his essence.   
  
"We need to go now," he said achingly, following the nape of her neck with his teeth, nipping lightly.  
  
She pulled back, still a little breathless and took his face in her hands, "There's more than just this between us, and we need to talk – I need to explain…" she trailed off, her voice held tears.  
  
"Oh, Veronica," Ned said softly, turning to kiss the palm of one of her hands. "You don't need to explain. But, if you want to, I'll listen."  
  
"I know you will. You always do," she sniffed, smiling and crying and the same time.   
  
He tugged her into his arms and backed up against the trunk of the tree, just holding her for a few moments. "There's nothing you need to explain to me, Veronica," he said again. "I need to tell you…"  
  
"Wait. Please," she spoke as she looked up at him. His very dear face, so open and willing, even after all this time in such a harsh place, smiled at her, nodding for her to go ahead.   
  
"I need to tell you some things that have happened since you were gone, but there's not time right now," she continued in a low voice. "But, I really need to tell you something that I didn't have the courage to tell you before. I love you," she looked straight at him, her voice steady and firm. "I ran away from you before, thinking that I'd lost you if I loved you, because everyone I'd ever loved has died or been taken from me." She shook her head. "It was so stupid, and I sorry…" her voice trailed off.  
  
Ned didn't say anything for a moment, trying to take it in. He had always known that there was a certain chemistry between Veronica and him, as well as affection. He had not really known his own feelings until he had lost her in the hollow earth. Now, to have her reciprocate his feelings – well, it overwhelmed him to say the least.   
  
Finally, he noticed the strained looked on her face, and he reached up to brush a stray strand of hair away from her eyes. "I have loved you since almost the moment I came to this Plateau. I didn't understand it, because I had a totally different idea about love and relationships. One that was so shallow and ignorant. You gave me so much more, and you don't ever have to explain how you came to love me. I don't care what happened or what changed your mind – just that you did." With a cry, Veronica threw her arms around him and they hugged each other, both of their cheeks dampened by tears.   
  
As if by silent agreement, they rose and started back on their journey to the villa. The only difference was their clasped hands and they made their way down the southern path toward the villa.  
  
***  
  
End Part 1 


End file.
